That Green Feeling
by Miss Puppet
Summary: Sometimes Beryl wondered if she was the only one with eyes in her head. Set during season 3, so spoiler alert.
1. Chapter 1

**That Green feeling**

_Rated_: K+  
_Pairings_: Carson/Hughes  
_Disclaimer_: It could not be less mine. Julian Fellowes wrote Downton Abbey, which is produced by Carnival Films for ITV Network.  
_Spoiler: _Contains spoilers for season 3. Read at your own risk  
_Summary_: Sometimes Beryl wonders if she's the only one with eyes in her head.  
_Genre_: romance/ friendship

_A/N: My Charles/Elsie muse had been on a *long* break and just returned with this teeny-tiny chapter… I'm not yet sure if it's going to stay a one-shot, or that I'm going to elaborate on it. I have a few ideas, but nothing too clear yet.  
I am also becoming a massive fan of Beryl Patmore. _

The door from the Servant´s hall to the hallway closed with an almighty bang, while Daisy stomped of into the opposite direction of the kitchen, her heavy work-shoes creating almost as much noise on the marble floor tiles.

From the hallway, Elsie could hear Charles reprimand Alfred for his improper behaviour and she shared a look with Beryl. Uncharacteristically, the cook hadn´t gone after Daisy in one of her usual huffs to berate her for her display of temper. Instead she gave an indulgent shrug and told Elsie: "I'd best let her cool off for a bit…she's seeing too much green to be dealt with now."

As Elsie was frowning at this rather enigmatic statement, Charles entered the Servant's hall, still wearing a bit scowl from the tongue lashing he'd dissed out earlier.  
"I'd say, here I was thinking that young Alfred was making good progress and then he goes around trying to slam the door in two." Obviously displeased, he looked inquiringly at the two women. "Does any of you know what got him so worked up?"

Just then the sound of Jimmy's low chuckle and Ivy's giggles drifted in from the backyard and Elsie's eyes widened in understanding.

"Do you?" Charles insisted, seeing her facial expressions change.

"I think I do, Mr Carson," Elsie answered with a hint of an amused smile. "I'm afraid a few of Cupids arrows got mixed up."

If possible, Charles proceeded to look even more displeased, but he waited quietly for her to continue.

"You see, I think it's like this… Daisy fancies Alfred, Alfred fancies Ivy, Ivy fancies Jimmy and Jimmy fancies Ivy back. Hence Daisy and Alfred are both 'seeing green' as Mrs Patmore just put it."

With every couple she mentioned, Charles started to look more incredulous and affronted. He took a few moments to gather his thoughts and eventually heaved a resigned sign. "I remember my own time as a footman, when I was far too busy carrying out my duties to be distracted by any foolish romantic notions. But I suppose that is another change we'll have to embrace."

As he stalked out of the Servant's hall, Elsie barely refrained from rolling her eyes. The poor man really didn't take well to any kind of drama.

Then Beryl let out a loud, heartily and undignified snort.

'What?" Elsie asked, startled from her thoughts.

"Too busy to be distracted by any foolish romantic notions, my eye!" she declared. "I well remember the time a particular new housemaid joined the staff and he couldn't keep his eyes off her. He followed her around like a lovesick puppy, he did!"

"Really!" Elsie asked incredulously. "When was this?"

Beryl fixed her with a long, hard stare. "Quite some years ago," she said slowly, as if measuring her reply.

"I see…" Elsie replied, biting her lip thoughtfully, her curiosity battling her respect for Charles' privacy. "And you are certain he fancied this housemaid?"

"He was besotted with her," Beryl answered pointedly. "It was rather obvious. He acted very chivalrous around her, wouldn't let anyone say anything against her. He thought she'd hung the moon."

"But did he ever tell her?" Elsie's interest was undoubtedly genuine. "Did he ever make any declarations?"

Beryl snorted again. "The most reticent man in all of Britain? What do you think? I'm sure he thought it wouldn't be proper for a man in his position. Besides, I doubt he thought she'd return his feelings."

"Well, didn't she?" Elsie exclaimed, here indignation showing.

"She might have," Beryl retorted, clearly exasperated as well and Elsie concluded that much like herself, the cook was equally affronted at the thought of a good man like Charles Carson having his affections slighted like that.

"I'm rather certain she did," Beryl continued. "But I also think she was a bit too pragmatic and stubborn to risk her position in the household by voicing her feelings."

"Stubborn, you say?" Elsie immediately jumped on that one word. "She wouldn't have been right for him then. They'd have bickered endlessly."

Beryl's face softened a little. "Oh, she would have been right for him. They would have been right together."

"Well, it obviously never worked out that way," Elsie concluded, somewhat disheartened. "I suppose he eventually overcame these feelings?"

"No, he didn't." Beryl's voice was as clear and clipped as ever. "I don't think he ever got over them."

"I see…" the words were mostly directed to the table than anything else and the housekeeper suddenly looked decidedly dejected.

This time, Beryl couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes, but it went completely unnoticed by the woman across the room. "Well, I'd better get moving," the cook announced sharply. "Bloody oblivious, blithering idiots," she muttered under her breath as she stomped out of the kitchen, much in the same fashion as Daisy had done earlier.

And Elsie was far too chagrined by the information she had just received to wonder about that subject of that comment.

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**Loved it? Hated it? Please let me know. I feel ridiculously out of shape where this pairing is concerned.**


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! I was rather overwhelmed by it, because I wasn´t quite sure about the story to begin with. I took me a while to figure out how to continue this, but here we go. _

_Set right after Se3Ep4_

**Chapter 2**

After securing the red bucket back on its hook, Charles made his way back into the servant´s hall, still wearing a scowl.

"Well?" Beryl demanded as she stepped from the kitchen into the servant's hall as well, wiping her hands on a towel. "What was she doing in there? Building a steam engine?"

"Mrs Hughes was trying out her new toaster," Charles replied gravely, sitting himself down at the end of the table. "But I am sorry to say that as of yet she does not have a full grasp on how to operate it properly."

"A toaster?" Beryl's laugh ran through the deserted room. "Where on earth did she get a toaster?"

"Apparently she bought it as a treat to herself," Charles answered, putting a disapproving emphasis on the last word.

"Oh well…"Beryl mused out loud, looking a great deal more understanding. "I suppose that makes sense. She deserves a treat after everything she has been through. It could have been far worse."

"I fail to see how, Mrs Patmore," the Charles retorted warily.

"She could have gotten herself a clandestine lover,' Beryl piped up.

The look of sheer indignation and vexation on his face was well worth the scolding that followed. "I believe that to be a very unnecessary remark, Mrs Patmore," he thundered. "Mrs Hughes is a highly respectable woman with an untarnished reputation and even the suggestion that she would scoop as low as to take on a 'clandestine lover' as you put it, is preposterous!"

"Fortunate enough for you," Beryl muttered under her breath, just quiet enough for him not to hear her before going back into the kitchen and Charles was left alone to calm himself and get his suddenly raving heartbeat under control.

Minutes later Beryl returned from the kitchen, carrying a cup of tea on a saucer and placing it carefully in front of him. "Cheer up," she said almost apologeticly. "She's only gotten herself a toaster."

"And therein lies exactly the problem," Charles confessed, a lot quieter now. "She has gotten h_erself _a toaster.

"I do not see why that would bother you so much." Beryl asked puzzled.

"Well… you see… " the butler looked increasingly uncomfortable and decidedly crestfallen. "Her birthday is in three days and I had planned on…" He paused and sighed resignedly. "Well, I had planned on giving her a toaster. I was going to Rippon tomorrow to fetch her one."

"You were going to give her a toaster for her birthday?" Beryl repeated incredulously.

I am certain she would like it," Charles defended his choice somewhat bewildered. "She's been staring at the brochure for weeks."

As an afterthought he added: "Blasted mail order!"

"And you didn't think it would be prudent to give her something that is a bit more personal?" Beryl challenged him.

"You think I ought to write something on a card and add it to the present?" Charles asked frowning.

"No!" Beryl cried, a hint of desperation entering her voice. "I think you ought to give her something that is a bit more of personal nature altogether."

The man across her continued to look infuriating oblivious. "I fail to see how a toaster is in any way lacking as a proper gift,"

"Oh no, it's a very proper gift," Beryl retorted, barely keeping the sarcasm out of her voice. "For a butler to give to a housekeeper. But isn't she a bit more to you than that?"

"Of course she is," Charles replied, still not comprehending. In a more soft tone he continued. "She's my oldest and dearest friend. Therefore I wanted to give her something nice, something I knew she would appreciate."

_Well, at least his heart was in the right place_,' Beryl reasoned with herself. "But since you can obviously no longer give her a toaster, perhaps you can think of something to give her that shows your appreciation for her as a _very dear friend_ a little better."

"And a toaster doesn't do that?"

And with that her patience had worn out. "Oh for Pete's sake! You two have been acting like an old married couple for _years_! Take your clue from that!"

The impressive eyebrows almost went up to his hairline before plunging down and Beryl knew when she had crossed the line. Hurrying back to the kitchen she left Charles alone to ponder on her words.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

****_In which Charles Carson goes Rochester. _

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His trip to Ripon had eventually been rather successful. With Beryl Patmore´s rather poignant hints still ringing in his ears, he had found the perfect gift for her birthday. One that, even he had to concede to that, was far more personal than a toaster.

Whether or not the gift was appropriate or if he wasn´t making the most foolish decision since he´d entered service again was a different matter altogether.

The gift was now securely tucked away into the pocket of his waistcoat.

His courage to actually give it to her was nowhere to be found.

Elsie had long ago given up to treat her birthday like it was something special. It was only another day of hard work, with only this difference that she was now a year older doing it. But as always, it was nice to come here, in Charles´ pantry at the end of that day and spend some time with him. And of course, even after all these years, her birthday still had one, if not small perk.

"What's this then?" she asked slightly puzzled as she watched him uncork a bottle of wine.

"This special occasion deserves a bottle of its own, no left overs from the dinner upstairs," he told her with a smile, putting the bottle down and advancing on her slowly. Her heart fluttered when he grasped her elbow lightly and pressed a chaste kiss on her cheek. "Happy birthday, Elsie."

Her birthday was about the only time a year Charles allowed his self-imposed standards of propriety to drop enough to address her so informally and to show her this small sign of friendly affection. As little as it was, she looked forward to it every year. She'd often wondered if he had never wanted anything more, but after her recent conversation with Beryl she had concluded a little bitterly that once upon a time he might have wanted something more, just not with her. She attempted to give him a bright smile nevertheless. "Thank you."  
On these moments she could never bring herself to call him 'Mr Carson. Nor did she have the boldness to call him by his Christian name.

"Please take a sit," he told her, bustling around with the glasses. "I trust you´ve had a good day?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," she told him smoothly. "Apart from Beryl welcoming me into the club of old ditties, that is."

He still had his back turned to her, admonishing himself for not given her the present just now, when the moment had been most opportune, but at her words he turned around, frowning in surprise. "She actually said that? In those exact words?"

"She very much did," Elsie confirmed.

"Well unfortunately, Mrs Patmore is prone to say the most outlandish things," he conceded. "A few days ago she said… No, never mind." he faltered, his ears tinging with embarrassment.

"What did she say?" Elsie asked, highly curious now. "Come on," she pressed on. "It can't be worse than being called an old ditty."

"She said we've been acting like an old married couple for the past twenty years," Charles confessed, his face reddening. "And you're not an old ditty!" he added as an afterthought.

"She said _what_?" Elsie exclaimed, absolutely flabbergasted. "I cannot believe the cheek of that woman!"

"Yes, it's preposterous," Charles agreed, wondering wildly how it was ever going to be appropriate to give her a gift that was as personal as what he was carrying in his waistcoat pocket at his moment. He tried to mask his embarrassment by letting out an awkward chuckle. "Us, a married couple… the very idea."

"Yes, it's rather hilarious when you think about it," Elsie laughed along, her heart sinking to the soles of her shoes. Not that she'd ever expected Charles to return her feelings, but for him to think of the idea of them being married as laughable stung nevertheless.

"But apparently we very much are in the eyes of the rest of the staff." He was still chortling, "Quite the married couple."

"Well, forgive me for thinking it's a bit of a barren ordeal, Mr Carson," she replied before she could stop herself.

"I beg your pardon?" he abruptly stopped laughing and looked at her sharply. "What do you mean by that?"

Perhaps it was her chagrin about the housemaid that apparently still held his heart. Or that her recent cancer scare made her wonder if she really was as happy and fulfilled with her life as she had always claimed to be. Or perhaps she just wanted to get back at him for laughing at her. Whatever the reason may have been, she spoke the words she would never have uttered at any other time with a studied breeziness.

"Well, a cup of tea in the evenings, or the odd glass of wine and a peck on my cheek on my birthdays isn't my idea of a satisfying marriage, Mr Carson."

She realized she had gone too far when she watched the colour drain from his face and an angry muscle starting to work in his jaw. He took a few steps towards her, coming to stand directly in front of her.  
"Do you really mean that?" he demanded.

"Well…" she paused and bit her lip, adverting her eyes from his piercing gaze. "Have you never longed for a… deeper connection with another person then?"

"I might have, once," her replied tersely.

_Of course. The bloody housemaid_. She had just decided it would be altogether better if she left his pantry when she suddenly felt his hand on her waist and her insides turned to liquid. Her head snapped up to stare at him with wide eyes, only to notice that his face was only a mere inch from hers.

"I still do," he rumbled hoarsely before claiming her mouth.

She was far too caught off guard to do anything more than grab his shoulders in reflex and sag against him, this leading to him wrapping his arms around her more tightly. From then on things got decidedly more blurry and for a while she was only aware of fragments of sensations. The pressure of his arm lying snuggly around her waist. The feel of his tongue teasing her lips. His scent enfolding her. His fingers gently stroking the hot skin of her neck. The feel of his surprisingly soft hair between her fingers. His heart beating steadily against her own.

Him being just as out of breath as she was when he eventually pulled back.

"I do apologize for that," he told her formally, once he had gotten his breathing under control.

"Don't you dare," she retorted instantly. Upon seeing his confused face and the way he was tensing his shoulders, trying to revert back to his usual unbending posture, she took his hand in hers and gently pulled him towards the settee.

"Are you honestly sorry about this?" she asked him calmly, fleetingly hoping that treating this like just another house-hold disturbance would prevent her from flinging herself back into his arms.

"I don't," he replied. "But I had planned on telling you in a slightly more proper manner."

"You did?" she asked, her eyes widening in surprise.

He nodded, suddenly reaching a decision. After what had just transpired between them, giving her his gift seemed slightly less terrifying. He reached into his pocket and handed her a flat, square, prettily wrapped up package.

"I- " He started haltingly and then only smiled. "Happy birthday, dearest Elsie."

With trembling fingers she took the gift from him and carefully tore away the wrapping paper, savouring every moment of it, until she could finally open the box.

As she viewed its content her eyes filled up with tears. "Oh Charles, it's beautiful," she whispered, gazing down at the red coral necklace that was inside.

His fingers tightened around hers once more. "I do hope you know how much you mean to me, Elsie."

She gave him a radiant smile before leaning in and kissing the corner of his mouth. "I do now."

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